


Pinned

by CircleUp



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Armor Porn, Bottom Steve Rogers, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 09:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20562287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircleUp/pseuds/CircleUp
Summary: Tony comes back from a business trip to find Steve using his armor in an off-label way.





	Pinned

"Quick question for you, J." Tony's voice floats in from the doorway, or maybe farther. Maybe he's out in the living room. Maybe he's right next to the bed. Honestly, Steve isn't great with distances right now. "What exactly am I looking at?"

"Captain Rodgers requested personal use of the suit, sir," the AI reports, his voice crisply professional, as if Steve being pinned down and slowly finger-fucked open by the Mark X reasonably fit under the definition of 'personal use.' "I determined that his request fell within your established guidelines."

"Wow. I'm honestly speechless. I kinda want to come back to that discussion, so put a pin in that. Later on, quick review of what exactly you think I think personal suit use entails."

"Yes sir."

"Not right now though." Steve hears the rustling of fabric, the zwip of a zipper, and feels the bed dip. His arms have been held behind his back for so long his shoulders are numb. The suit is kneeling beside him and forcing him to keep the position, face down and ass up, with a strength even he envies, which was why he'd turned to JARVIS in the first place.

The only thing Steve's wearing is a blindfold.

Steve startles when Tony's hand lands on his ass cheek, not quite a slap but close. It stings a little. Steve's sweating, has been sweating. The suit has kept him on edge for hours, its metal fingers pressing against his prostate over and over again until he's sure it's nothing but one intense bruise. Tony squeezes a handful of muscle appreciatively, his voice low. "You wanna tell me what I've stumbled on here, Cap?"

Steve opens his mouth but the only sound that comes out is a whine he's embarrassed about, somewhere deep down. He'll be more embarrassed about it later, when his dick isn't aching for attention so badly it's becoming painful.

Tony swats the other ass cheek, more for the feel of it than anything else. He sounds thoughtful, as if he's come home to one of his bots gone awry, as if Steve spread out like a buffet is an intellectual problem. "How many of my business trips feature the deleted scene of you fucking my suit in my bed?"

"This is the first one," Steve manages. His throat is desert dry.

Tony hums, non-committal. "Not to be the responsible adult here, and believe me, no one sees the irony in it more than I do, but since real life pornos so rarely go the way you plan, let's have a quick chat about it."

Steve can't imagine a worse way to have this discussion, but then Tony's beside him and running his hands up Steve's sweat-slicked skin, squeezing his biceps briefly, squeezing the nape of his neck, and his thoughts scatter. Steve feels like livestock Tony's evaluating for its breeding value. He moans, and hears a low, answering chuckle.

"I'm not saying no," Tony murmurs, his words suddenly hot against Steve's ear. "But I want to be clear. Is this just a suit thing? Am I… being cuckolded by my own suit?" When Steve's only answer is a furious, deepening blush, Tony says, "You can present naked in my bed but can't say 'please fuck me, Tony,' seriously?"

Steve moans again, pitiful. His cock twitches, leaking precum in a few desperate beads. "Please... fuck me, Tony."

"Alright. Keep him restrained, but remove the other hand," Tony says, business-like and brisk and not to Steve, and he feels the three metal fingers that had been working him open over and over until he was gaping from it withdraw.

"No," Steve gasps, even though he knows it's a prelude to something better. The loss has him rutting, hips rocking back after the withdrawing fingers, anything but the emptiness that follows.

"Actually put that hand on his neck, pin him down," Tony orders like Steve isn't even here, and he feels the hand that had been in his ass—metal still warm—clench around the nape of his neck. The pressure is enough to secure but not to harm. Steve struggles against it but only a cursory amount, reassuring himself he can't move, and Tony chuckles. Steve hears a shnik of a cap opening, feels the shift on the bed as Tony moves behind him, his free hand steadying on Steve's hip. "That's it, huh?" Tony's tone is certain now. Problem solved, solution attainable. "Captain America doesn't have anyone up to the task of pinning him down."

He feels the blunt head of Tony's cock press against him. Steve's still loose from hours of finger fucking, and exhausted and needy from being denied. "Except Iron Man," he gasps, knowing Tony will like the answer.

"Except Iron Man," Tony agrees, greedy. He presses in.

It's too slow for Steve's liking. Steve doesn't need the prep, he's already had it, but he can't move to do anything about it. The suit does its job, securing him to the bed so he's nothing more than a hole for Tony to fuck into at whatever speed he wants, and it seems like Tony has decided to take his sweet time. The slow drag in is agony. Tony used just enough lube to wet himself but not so much that the glide is frictionless. Steve is reduced to this, the terrible and inevitable press forward, until Tony's hips are against his ass and he stills.

"Please," he finds himself choking out, and he can hear the answering smile in Tony's voice.

"Since you've asked so nicely."

Tony pulls half out and slams back in. He's chasing his own release, the hand wet with lube landing on Steve's other hip for balance rather than trying for a reach-around. The fact that each brutal thrust brushes against Steve's already battered prostate is coincidence, not design. Steve's so close, but he can't come like this, and he shudders and struggles against iron fingers. If he could just free an arm…

Tony comes fiercely but quietly, the staccato rhythm broken at the end by rapid breaths and a few final slams home, and Steve can feel him pulsing inside him. Tony slows, stops, lets himself breathe a little before he punctuates the end with a slap to Steve's ass that has him gasping and clenching around the other man.

"Hang on," Tony mutters, pulling out with a little groan. The condom's pulled off, tied, tossed at a trash can with good aim Steve can't see, and then Tony does a neat little trick Steve can't see either but he can feel. Tony twists onto his back and wriggles up between Steve's legs until his mouth is before Steve's aching cock. Steve has a moment to feel his breath there and then he's being plunged into hot and wet. Tony sucks him down without teasing, bobbing up and down over his length, until Steve is spilling down his throat, too relieved to be embarrassed by how quickly it's over.

Steve barely remembers the next part, being maneuvered by flesh and metal hands until he's lying on his side, the little spoon to a man smaller than he is, but for right now the weight of the arm over him feels good. Steve doesn't open his eyes even though the blindfold's been removed.

Tony says, "I go on another trip Thursday."

Steve makes a questioning noise, too exhausted for proper words, and Tony presses his lips to Steve's hair.

"I'll leave out the suit."


End file.
